


and, sugar, this one is it

by ghostinthetoaster



Category: Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthetoaster/pseuds/ghostinthetoaster
Summary: A demi-goddess and her pilot, reunited.





	and, sugar, this one is it

**Author's Note:**

> Do you remember that windmill in Courage the Cowardly Dog? This writer is just as rusty. This couple is fun to write for, though, so bear with me.

_The Tuileries, Paris, France – 2018_

“I feel like we’re al-almost there.” Steve wheezes, stumbling. A stinging bead of sweat drops into his eye, blurring the kilometer marker posted on the sidewalk as he runs-trots-bumbles past it. “Did that say eighteen?”

“Yes, beloved.” A familiar hand grips his elbow for a moment, steadying him, and of course she sounds like they’re conversing over brunch instead of three quarters of the way through a marathon. He groans, straightening his shoulders. He can feel her amused gaze warm the side of his face. “We can stop if you wish.” 

Steve watches a man who looks to be in his sixties lumber past the two of them at a steady clip. “No way, are you kid-kidding? Finish what you – what you start, that’s what my granny used to say.” 

To preface to that, Helen Florence Trevor also said never to start what he couldn’t finish, but he’s not about to derail his own pep talk. 

Diana’s ponytail swishes gently with her gait, and she smiles at a young woman handing out small cups of water. Grabbing two, she hands one of them to him. “Drink.” 

She’s not even _sweating_.

Steve throws the water back, and probably gets most of it on his face, but it quenches the arid feeling in his mouth and throat. Diana switches the empty cup out for the second one, and Steve takes a little more time with this one, downing it a couple of swallows. “Thanks,” he pants, handing the second empty cup to her. She tosses them both into a nearby can. “This was definitely – a good idea.” Diana’s cheeky smirk tells him he doesn’t sound as convincing as he’d like.

The weather is perfect, at least. The sky is deep and blue, free of clouds, and a cool breeze flows between the gorgeous architecture of the Paris residential district in which the marathon is taking place. 

When Diana had passed him the flyer last week, paper proclaiming the fun time to be had during “ _La course caritative de Pitié-Salpêtrière_ ,” he needed nothing more than the sparkle in her eye to convince him to buy a pair of Nikes. 

Of course, he knows he’s not in marathon shape, per say. Since his miraculous chronological relocation two months ago, courtesy of that Allen kid Diana is so fond of, his priorities lay more in reconnecting with Diana and assimilating into a society a century ahead of his own. Talk about goddamn culture shock, by the way. The internet, passenger jets, refrigerators…

Point being, Steve is aware that just over twenty-six miles is a long way to run. Still, he had thought he would at least be able to jog to the finish, if not keep a respectable pace.

He’s not sure what he’s doing right now can be classified as jogging.

The bottom of his shoe scuffs on an uneven piece of asphalt. “Who put that there?” he says, glaring back at the offensive crack. “Someone should – write a letter. These roads are in – in terrible shape.”

“I will always support more civil and community engagement,” she vows, and he’d laugh if he had any breath to spare. The thing is, Diana has a way of sounding like she’s teasing him and being completely sincere. He wonders if that trait was passed down, or if it’s something she’s picked up living among humanity. 

Gracefully, she has kept his pace from the start, which warms his insides. The stitch in his side is also warming his insides. Why didn’t he run more in the twentieth century? It feels like his eyeballs are bouncing inside his skull, good grief. 

Kilometer marker number nineteen mocks him from its post on the sidewalk. “You know, you can – go ahead, if you want. I bet you can still win – win this thing.” Steve says, flapping his hand towards where he assumes the finish line will be. 

“And miss a moment of your dramatics?” Steve makes a face at her, and she grins. “Besides,” she hums, glancing at her Cartier, “They’ve likely taken down the finish line banner by now.”

“Har, har. You’re a card. A real Charlie Chaplain,” Steve deadpans, and then winces when another cramp tears through his abdominals.

Okay, he was only kind of feeling it before, but now he’s _really_ starting to feel it. “Sorry, I have to stop – for a second. Just a second.” His shoes slap the ground as he staggers to a slow walk, and then a stop. He leans over, hands braced on his knees. Fortunately, the number of participants around them has thinned from dozens to just a few, so at least his failure isn’t blocking anyone else from succeeding. He feels Diana place a gentle hand on his back.

“Are you all right?” She sounds concerned now. He lifts a hand waving her off.  
“Totally – totally fine. Just need to catch my breath.” He straightens, panting. “Damn, I thought I could do it without a break. Granny is rolling in her grave, God rest her soul.”  
“You cannot continue?”

It’s a good question. He could try, but from the way his legs are trembling, he’s not one hundred percent confident he’d cross the finish line on his feet. Still, Steven Rockwell Trevor is no quitter. “Never said that,” he smiles at he, chest still heaving. “Give me a minute, and we’ll keep going.” 

Diana’s lips twist. After a moment, she snaps her fingers. “How about this?” She turns so her back is facing him and bends slightly, spreading her arms like a pair of wings. “Hop on, will carry you until your breath returns.”

Steve squints, huffing a laugh when Diana wiggles her hands impatiently. “Wait, really?”

She cocks an imperious eyebrow, mischievous smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You think I cannot do it?”

She knows damn well that’s not what he thinks, but she’s always been an expert at hoisting him on his own petard, and he’s too tired to talk his way out. Sighing as though he’s put out, Steve clambers on.

Feeling Diana’s strength under him is something he’ll never get used to. Right now, it’s something like climbing a tree; where mere humans would falter under a sudden weight, she stands steady, even as his exhausted muscles make mounting her back an ungainly effort. He’s sweaty, and probably smelly, but Diana smiles over shoulder and squeezes his thighs with gentle hands that belie her power.

“Onward!” Steve commands, pointing forward and clicking his tongue to annoy her. In retaliation, Diana lurches forward with a burst of super speed, and Steve must grab hold of her shoulders to keep from falling backwards. She giggles as he scrambles up, wrapping his arms around her neck. “All right, all right. No more horse jokes.”

In no time, she’s moving at a steady clip. He sees more than a few bystanders give them some interesting looks as they watch him riding piggyback on a woman who looks to weigh a good one hundred pounds less than him. If he were a lesser man, he’d probably be embarrassed, but he knows Diana has made him a greater man. He’s known that since Themyscira, and he hopes to know it for the rest of his very lucky, impossible life.

Interesting. The ride is smoother than he thought it’d be. He looks down, and it sure _looks_ like she’s running, but – “Are you floating?” he murmurs in her delicate ear. Diana brushes her nose against his cheek, and he feels her smile. He scoffs. “Cheater.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have I committed to multiple chapters? UH OH


End file.
